Thread of Fate

By Chris Dale

Staying in one place leads to a mundane life. Traveling the world and watching it evolve around you as you make friends and find love can change your life forever in the best way; Zyess and Clatria felt the same way. In an elf's life, stagnation was never the way to live and, instead, sheltered them from the world.

Join them in their travels as they meet friends, family and learn about themselves. See the world through their eyes as they fight, laugh, love, and cry together while discovering the wonders that await them outside of their homes. Sometimes, the thread of fate can lead you to something that was but a fleeting dream. The joy of what comes next is only just the beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798885056366

Chris Dale

Chris Dale is a self-made CEO of two niche businesses you've probably never heard of, despite his companies winning multiple awards. He has never sought fame or notoriety as a business owner. Instead, Chris has chosen to keep his businesses small and his future in his control. Since 2017, Chris has documented this journey, helping others establish themselves as entrepreneurs and discover a more fulfilling life.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Name Index

About the Author

cover.jpg

Thread of Fate

Chris Dale

Copyright © 2023 Chris Dale

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2023

ISBN 979-8-88505-635-9 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88505-636-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Thank you, Elyse,

for bringing my vision to life

with this wonderful cover design.

Prologue

The faint glow of the amber-colored crystals soothed him during his normal waking hours. Though for the last two years, the deep-purple hue of the night has drawn him in. It meant night for him, leaving him to watch a beautiful sun-kissed elf with auburn hair dance about the forest. These dreams had a special allure to him and left him wanting more like a good book after the first chapter.

Though these were brief and leaving him longing until the next one, he knew it was only a dream while feeling some deep harmony and connection to her. Her face was left shrouded by her locks or the bright glare of the sun. Words were never heard but often spoken without sound between her and many of the folks within the village where she lived. Whenever he reached out often to touch her or turn her around, he would be woken by the roaring of the furnace or the glowing amber lights.

Everyday seems to be the same thing—wake up, get the hammer, and start working. Food is brought down twice a day and a short period of conversation with his own mother. He makes time to read various books that are not kept on the surface. There is no explanation as to why they are locked down below; he just knows they are.

Same routine every day; the one thing breaking it up lately is basking in the beauty of his dream lady. It helped him leave his dark dungeon and move about the people of the village she lived. They never took notice of him, but he felt more accepted amongst them. His skin lacked the dark pigmentation of his village, and he was shunned from the surface for it.

The furnace at the end of the room was always lit magically. The ores he used to forge weapons were brought down periodically by warriors who were never talkative. Even as an elf, he has spent over a hundred years in seclusion. He understood the situation though and has longed to change it.

No one deserves loneliness like this, he mumbled under his breath as his hammer struck the molten metal. He paused as a tear rolled down his cheek. He shook his head and let out a great sigh. This will get me nowhere! he shouted as he slammed his mighty forging hammer down on the blade several times.

He took up the mithril blade in the tongs and placed it tip down into the water. The steam rolled up as he wiped his brow.

The reptilian-scaled hide set across the room was meant to be the wrappings for the handle. This was only one of the blades he was making for himself even if he were to never use them. He grinned as he pulled the newly cooled blade from the water, perfectly balanced and ready to be placed on the grinder to prep it.

As he wrapped the handle, he marveled at the reflective properties of the metal. As the light hit different areas of the blade, it glowed various colors! He read about it but assumed it was an old wise tale told to children seeking a grand adventure. Though that was only if you found the purest ore to craft with. He marveled at the blade a moment longer before strapping it and the arm clasp designed to hold the blade underneath the stone bed.

The weapons always piled up for a few weeks before he would be allowed to hand them over to the chief of the village who would distribute them as needed. He was only the blacksmith shunned away and given a place where no one needed to see him. An ivory elf in a village of ebony, born as a mistake and left to rot in a prison that was treated like a treasured job that no one wanted to do.

He pulled out the blank scroll he had been using to scribble down his menial life and began to pen:

The first blade has been completed, and I could stare at it all night instead of sleep. Thinking of not sleeping made me dismiss the idea, so I could hopefully get a glimpse of the face of the woman of my dreams. Everything about her is beautiful—the way she wakes up and stretches each morning, how she walks, even the way she climbs a tree when getting away from everyone.

If I wasn't locked in this dungeon all day crafting weapons of war, I would be able to go out and bask in the sunlight while the rest of the village is asleep. I would be able to travel entire continents to find this mystery woman. I would be able to experience the world that I have only read in my books.

He sighed as the pen was laid along the table. What a dream to have.

He turned and shuffled into the bed behind him. It was a stone slab for a mattress and a pillow. He curled up onto the bed and smiled knowing in his dreams she would be there.

There was no dream this night; they were gone as abruptly as they started. Not even a glimpse of her. He let the tear roll down his face as the stroke of happiness and freedom he had was stripped from him. He folded his hands, hoping more than anything she was okay and that she wasn't an illusion. Before he knew it, the crystals brightened to the faint amber color letting him know to start the day.

Happiness is a luxury in the world. You are lucky to have it when you find it and damned if you search for it. They tell you never to stray from the path you are given. Though I believe the whole system is flawed. Ancient rituals and practices leaving no room for imagination and personal growth.

Adults always being told using their imagination is child-like and children acting as adults is very adult of them. Growing up leaves you trapped and unable to gain true personal growth as your individuality gets left behind. Every rule removes creativity from daily life and prevents a possible better way from being developed.

If there is anything I have learned of today, it's that in this ever-changing world we live in, people don't change. Only the environment around them shifts in a different direction. Always removing what the people of the land left behind. Records of the greatest cities the world has ever known have crumbled with time.

Humans, elves, orcs and even dwarves each with a purpose but never keeping the future in mind. Why? Who knows? We only know what is in front of us now and the usual means we must in which to deal with them. Ideocracy, all of it! This whole wonderful world seems to be falling to shambles.

We lost so much more than happiness by not allowing ourselves and lives to change and flow with time. We lost our sanity, our courage, and our decency. We gave up all this for complacency, to feel like we can keep the world the way we want it. To stop us from having to change. Preventing us from facing a fear no one plans to acknowledge. Leaving us more alone and useless.

We need a way out of this hole we each are buried in. Or at least I do. Maybe Laflihn will take me on a grand adventure one day. Maybe I will die in this little hole.

Maybe this is too much to hope for,

Zyess

*****

She lifted her head from her pillow and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Why had she been having dreams of an elf in a dungeon working as a blacksmith for the last two years? She never saw his face though, and he walked around like he was lonesome. Now that she thought about it, there was never once someone with him.

She noticed it seemed like she had been watched for a while every day, but she always shrugged the thought off. She dressed and grabbed a handful of bread before darting out without even saying hi to her father.

It was perfect outside without a single cloud in the sky. Her smile grew upon her face as she ran through the forest to her hiding spot. She latched onto the first branch and flung herself into the air, landing on a branch over ten feet up. Gracefully, she landed next to a bird's nest with chirping chicks inside. She had saved a small piece of the bread for them and laid it about the edge of the nest.

She sprung to the next branch and continued her ascent up the large tree and stopping near the top. She could see almost endlessly in all directions. It was beyond peaceful. A nap in the sun on the high branches always followed shortly after. The village was always nice and inviting, but sometimes, her own company was the best.

Traditions dictated the ways of the village and of her life. The light breeze seemed to blow away whatever was watching her like other days, along with the worries of her daily life. She took a deep breath and nestled into the tree a little longer before descending the tree knowing she had a class to teach. Unlike her father who taught advanced magic to children, she was left teaching the warriors how to fight and basic magic with the son of the chief.

She scoffed at the thought of him as she rolled onto the ground. He is so full of himself. Her voice trailed off into the distance before she laughed out loud. He probably knows it too! She bellowed out a laugh, spooking several birds and critters from the area.

She started off for the village to begin her duties for the day and go home to do it all over again—chase off possible suitors occasionally, teach the children, and sleep. Though sleeping was a nice escape from her world, it would lead her to a room where she would often read books with an almost barbaric-looking elf. He is always rough and mightily swinging the hammer against hot metal. He was gentle like a scholar when handling the old tomes and scrolls. She knew he was nice just by watching how he was with books. It brought a smile to her face and made her feel warm and invited. The books brought them on grand adventures in places she had never heard of and taught her about cultures she could only dream about. She wanted to be as free as those books and see what the world had, though she needed to take off the mantle of traditions that was placed upon her.

She hoped this mystery elf was real. He looks strong and was taller than most elves; his hair looked like a light blond but was soot covered. She smiled thinking about him for a moment and remembered she never once saw his face. No matter how many times she stood in front of him, it was too dark to really see the features.

How could he live in those conditions? He must have been eating good. I mean, look at the size of him! How did he never see me? Do my dreams make me like a ghost? Why can't I touch him? How come every time I try to, I get woken up? Why have I been seeing him so much in dreams? There were so many questions left unanswered, but she did not have the time to think about them. She had too much to do today and not enough time to do it. She shook the thought of the young elf and continued to her duties.

No more distractions today, she grunted as she wandered into the village, greeting everyone as she went by.

Her father was very well respected and close with the chief. The chief's son, a young stocky elf, reached up and grasped her shoulder.

Hey, we have been waiting for you for a while now. We need to go over what we will be teaching the young ones. His grin was enough to show he had more than the classes on his mind.

She scoffed at him, You are only here because you are the chieftain's son. She brushed his hand off and continued, Everyone here knows you couldn't beat me even if you tried. She chuckled to herself and left him standing there, mouth agape a moment before catching up.

During the history lessons for the children, he slapped her on the rear. The children watched as she climbed the young man's back and gripped his neck with her legs, flipping him onto his stomach, laying him flat on the floor. She rolled off the young elf and stood back up, brushing herself off. The children were clapping and cheering her as he lay there dazed a moment longer. He gave a great sigh of defeat as he rose. She brushed her hair back and walked to the next student.

Be mindful of your hands next time. She scowled at him and went back to helping the children learn.

He kept his distance from her the rest of the day, leaving it perfectly peaceful moving forward. Though more than anything, she was excited to get home. It meant she could enjoy the dreams she had been having of the young elf. She bit her lip for a moment, thinking about him, and let out a deep sigh. She felt like meeting him would never happen in her lifetime.

She was quiet at the dinner table, only half listening to her father's ramblings before heading to her room. She changed into her nightdress and crawled into her comfy bed and wrapped herself in the large pelt blanket she had. She smiled as the dream was to come shortly. Two years of this dream left her feeling like she knew exactly who he was. The fact it was a dream meant nothing; she just hoped it would never end.

As she slipped deeper into her sleep, not once did he show up. Not once was she able to see him and read the stories over his broad shoulders. She was left to her usual thoughts and obligations she had to the village…

Tradition leaves you in a motionless state it seems. Nothing to gain and nothing to lose. Always being told, Stay here! or You can't do that. Rules dictating the ancient way of the people.

It would be nice to one day see the traditions elsewhere and start new ones that are just as great or better. Ones that don't require continued obligations of union with a partner or staying in or near the village. One that lets you seek and forge your destiny, even if it leads to your own self destruction. What better way to become someone better than rebuild yourself after failing!

Wishful thinking, everyone is trapped by traditions of family and communities around them. With as long as elves live, we should be able to one day see traditions change and move in all sorts of directions. Maybe our children will lead the change, maybe the elders will be sick of the repetition.

After being told many times by my father the future is never guaranteed, I know I can't wait for tomorrow. I, like the rest of us need to live for today. One step, one stride, one hop or whatever we do needs to happen one at a time. Looking back leaves us losing track of what is in front of us and, looking too far ahead will make us forget where we are standing. Never lose sight of today and enjoy each moment since it is the last time it will happen.

With whatever the future holds,

Clatria

Chapter 1

The faintly glowing crystal on the wall was all he needed to see the tomes piled at the table before him. Various Elven dialects and cultures could be learned as well as tongues from other races. Time was anything but a problem; as a blacksmith, he hid away underground and worked diligently. Not by his own accord though, and with the lack of dreams of that beautiful woman, there wasn't much else to look forward to.

Stuck as the Mai'yr, or the death bringer of the Moon Elves, called the once-in-a-lifetime light-skinned elf born of their clan. Often, they are to be sacrificed to the moon goddess to allow the clan a bountiful harvest and good fortune. The orcs and humans were claiming more land for themselves, instead he was put to work in the underbelly of the village to make weapons—the one job no one else would ever take.

On queue like every day, his mother came down with a tray of food and a smile as she always had whenever she got to see her son. She had seemed to gain weight over the last few months but hid it with oversized shirts and dresses. He paid little heed to that fact and enjoyed the time with his mother, nonetheless.

He was the reject, but they knew a blacksmith couldn't work without nourishment. He had some enjoyment since his mother would talk with him for a short while, and he had the library of tomes no one wanted to learn about. It had information on humans, orcs, even other sects of elves, and so much more. The world was huge compared to the village he was part of. Not that he knew much about the village he was from anyways.

He stood from his chair and his tray of scraps, put on the heat-resistant gloves, and hoisted the forging tongs to pull out the glowing metal and place it on the anvil. The hammer beside him was trustworthy and helped him build far more muscle than the average elf. He hoisted it above his head and started slamming it against the heated ore and pounded it into a thin, short blade. It was beautiful and to be used for himself. There was a special reptilian-scale hide he was saving to wrap the handle of the second blade. The sheath was an arm strap that was magnetized to hold it in place while clasped outward. Perfectly fitted the length of his forearm. This needed to be tucked away, so it wouldn't be found.

The crystals on the wall would change from a deep amber to a soft purple as his day faded to night. This night was special; he had several pieces of equipment, from weapons to plates of armor, ready to be brought up and left at the elder's doorstep. One of the few times, he gets to leave the underbelly of the village and bask in the glow of dawn. It was beautiful; the brightest stars still dotting the sky, and the moon was almost full this night. Everyone was inside with their families laughing and singing. He knew his mother even though the rest of the village was shunned from meeting him.

The village elder's house was elaborate with beautiful flowering ivy that grew all about the walls, and each window was a stained picture of his children and those of the elders before him. The fireplace in the main room sprayed a beautiful